


home in a den of theives

by NotSummer



Series: Vyirin Legacy [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11718969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSummer/pseuds/NotSummer
Summary: A smuggler and a drinking contest. The odds aren't great, but what smuggler listens to odds?





	home in a den of theives

Shards went everywhere, and Kaivaa stared at the multiple copies of the shattered shot glass. Perhaps if she focused, her vision would even out and she could see the one true version without this nasty blur.  _Nope. That didn't work_. She was still in the game though, and she swayed slightly, smirking down at the rickety table.

In her alcohol induced haze, she failed to notice the clapping and cheering of the patrons. The bartender, a craggy Trandoshan whose scales were fading with age, shook his head and poured another shot for the two smugglers.

The Togorian in front of her, was listing to the side, but there was a determined glint in his yellow eye. Pirates and smugglers and criminals all cheered the two on, credits exchanging hands as bets were made.  _ I hope Bowdaar and Risha are managing the books tonight _ . _We might make a profit yet._

Kaivaa gave the Togorian a sloppy salute, and looked down at the Hoth Afterburner. “It’s on fire,” she slurred, “You’re wasting alcohol.” She picked the glass up, grinned, and drank it all, placing the glass back down and trying not to smash the surprisingly delicate glasses this time. She coughed into her sleeve, and then belched, a wisp of green bursting from her throat.

The Togorian’s whiskers were on fire when she looked back up. The other alien swatted at the flames, but only succeeded in knocking himself off the barstool. Laughter roared through the dingy atmosphere, and eyes turned back to the minuscule Twi’lek.

She rubbed at her eyes, and then her smile stretched wide across her face. “Well. That _burned_ going down.”

Yelling and applause tore through the bar, and Kaivaa leaned forward onto the table, finding her peace in the rowdy laughter of scum and villainy.


End file.
